Nothing to Fear
by beast916
Summary: Sam and Freddie are driving away from a carnival when their lives change.  What will happen when somebody has to face fear she never knew she had?  And when some one else is fearless?
1. Chapter 1: Nightswimming

Chapter 1: Nightswimming

Disclaimer: not mine, y'all.

Note: There will be some OOC behavior in this. As you read, I'm sure you'll understand why. "iOMG" did not happen.

"I can't believe you, Sam. Why would you do that? You got us kicked out."

"I got me kicked out, nub. You could have stayed with Carly and Jack."

"And be their coxswain on another trip through the Tunnel of Love? No thank you."

"Coxswain." Sam giggled. "You still didn't need to leave with me."

"And just how would you have gotten home, Sam?" Freddie asked.

"I just would have hotwired your truck. Or pushed it. Probably would get home quicker that way."

"Yeah, very funny. This is a reliable vehicle. Seriously, Sam, why would you try to stand up on the ride? There were signs telling of the dangers. The guy said something about it before he strapped everybody in. You could have been killed."

"But I didn't, thanks to you ratting me out. Turn this way." She pointed down a road away from the highway. Freddie turned.

"Why are we going this way?"

"There's a pretty cool bridge on the way to my house."

"What, the Thompson Bridge? Hasn't that thing fallen apart yet?"

"Nope. Maybe if we're lucky, it will tonight. Now shut up, Fredward, and let Mama listen to some music." She turned the station and moved the volume louder than the level Freddie's mom had marked on the panel as acceptable and unlikely to cause hearing problems.

They drove in silence for about five minutes. They came to the bridge, which did appear to have passed its best days long ago. Freddie reached out and turned down the volume.

"Hey, Sam, can I ask you a question?"

"Freddie, look out!" Coming at them, much too fast and weaving between lanes, was another vehicle. It didn't have its lights on, or Freddie might have noticed it sooner. Freddie swerved to his left, and the other vehicle seemed to follow him. The headlights on Freddie's truck flashed on the front of the other vehicle, and he saw the license plate for a moment: JWC 669. Freddie swerved back to the right and the other vehicle followed him again. There was no more room for Freddie to maneuver, and the other vehicle clipped the front of Freddie's truck and pushed him further to the right. He heard the crunch of metal as the bumper hit the guard rail. He seemed to hear each ping and crack as metal crunched and the guard rail broke. Part of his mind chastised him for not saving more money to buy a newer vehicle, one that had air bags. He felt his seat belt strain against his chest. He looked over to Sam. Her head was lolling near her open window.

Blood was flowing down her forehead.

She had buckled her seatbelt, but put the shoulder strap behind her. When Freddie had tried to chastise her, she had said it hurt her boobs. Not wanting to get into a big discussion about her boobs or to acknowledge that this hadn't been the first time they had crossed his mind, Freddie had dropped the subject.

"Sam," he said, reaching out to her. And that's when they hit the water.

Freddie's head snapped to the left and collided with his window, shattering it. He felt a sharp pain that began to throb almost immediately. Within seconds his clothes were drenched as water came through both windows.

"Sam," he shouted, although it sound muffled to his own ears, as if it were trapped in guitar feedback. She didn't move, as the water continued to fill the truck. He pressed the overhead light on, hoping it would hold. It flickered. He unbuckled his seatbelt and moved over to her. He tried to unbuckle her seat belt, but it wouldn't give. Water was now past their waists and coming in fast.

"Sorry, Sam," he said, and reached into her front pocket. He pulled out her key ring that had the Swiss army knife. She kept it sharpened, so cutting through the belt was fairly easy. He tried to push her through the window, but the water had nearly filled the cab, and he couldn't move her weight that way. As the top of the truck started to sink beneath the water, he swam through the window and reached back, grasping under her shoulders and pulling her out with him. Despite her deep love for food, she was not a heavy girl, but her weight was now slack, plus her clothes were soaked. And every fiber in Freddie's body seemed to ache. He didn't think he broke anything, but he was unbelievably sore. And he was dizzy. The light went out, and there was only blackness.

He pushed up through the water with his arms wrapped around Sam. With the wake of the sinking trunk pulling at him, it proved to be difficult. When he thought he might not be able to hold his breath any longer, their heads broke the water.

"Sam. Sam. Come on, Sammy." He couldn't see her, and he struggled to turn her around while keeping her head above water. He got within kissing distance of her and felt happy when he could feel her breath on his face. He turned her back around, resting her head against his chin.

He looked around. There were stars in the sky, but no moon. The bridge had been old, and there hadn't been any lights on it, so he couldn't judge based on that. Finally, he just picked a direction to head in. He had a seventy-five percent chance of not screwing up, either coming to the bridge or a shore on either side of it. He tried not to think about what would happen if he headed in the one direction he shouldn't or of what they might run into that way.

With Sam in his arms, he could only kick with his legs and arch with his back. He would occasionally hold onto Sam with one arm wrapped around her and paddle with the other, but that didn't seem to help much. He had the feeling he might have turned around or gone in circles at some point. His head was aching, and it was almost all he could do to hold on to Sam.

"Come on, Sammy, wake up," he whispered in her ear as he swam. He had little strength to speak any louder. He had tried yelling, hoping somebody on the bridge might hear him, hoping the driver that had caused this might have stopped, but his voice barely broke the sound of the water, and each time he tried it only made his head ache more.

"Anyway," he said, feeling completely disoriented. "I was going to ask if you wanted to go on a date with me. You know, the whole works, dinner, movie. I'd pay for it all. It'd be just like normal, 'cept maybe we might kiss at the end. So what do you say, Sam, wanna go on a date?"

Sam said nothing.

"You have to think about it. I understand. I'm not going to pressure you." His face slipped in the water, and he pulled back up, pushing water out of his mouth. He never let Sam slip. "I know, you're thinking that I'm a nub, and you would never date a nub. But sometimes I think you like me, too, Sammy. Do you? Do you like me, Sammy?"

Sam said nothing.

"We'll get back to that. What was I saying?" His feet kept pushing, independent of his mind. All that was going through his head was that he was going to save Sammy, going to save Sammy, going to save Sammy, and how pissed she would be if she knew he was calling her Sammy.

"Samantha," he said, and his weak smile slipped into the water. He pulled his face up and pushed harder.

Crickets. He thought he could hear crickets. Maybe that was just the buzzing on the side of his head, but he pushed toward the sound, anyway, using the sound as a compass, hoping his dizzied mind didn't throw him off course.

His feet hit something solid.

"We're there, Sammy. We're there." His voice was slurring. Despite the solidness beneath him, he couldn't stand up. "We're there, Sammy." He thought he heard her moan. He turned over, so that she was on top of him, her cheek resting on his lips, as he pushed back with his feet. Solid. It was solid. Something pushed against his back.

"We're there, Sammy," he said. He heard a bubbling, as he felt her head slip off his head. He reached back with a trembling hand and felt grass and sand. Land was right there. He grasped Sam with his hands and yanked with all his might, pushing her over his head. He heard her moan as her head hit the ground. Her knee connected with his head, bringing bright light shooting throw his skull. He turned to the side and water crept into his mouth.

Sammy is safe. Safe. Sammy is safe, he thought. Just gonna catch a quick nap, Sam, and we'll be on our way, he tried to say, but all that happened was more water.

Slippage.

Sam groaned. She hurt all over. She had been with Freddie.

"Look out, Freddie!" she shouted, sitting up. She looked around, but could see nothing. They weren't on the bridge. Her forehead hurt. She put her hand to it and pulled back with stickiness. There had been a car. Freddie...

"Freddie?" She moved, and felt something against her leg. She reached down and felt...it was the side of a face. Under water. She reached down and felt the face. She knew that face; it had been slapped by her hand plenty enough. She pulled him up under his arms, until his face was out of the water. She struggled to get him on the ground with her. She attempted to check his breath and his pulse, but she was shivering and didn't know what movement was her and what was Freddie.

"Freddie, come on, wake up. Please. Freddie." She didn't notice as tears joined the wetness between them. She saw a large red spread on the side of his head.

She saw.

She looked up. Blinking lights. Red. Blue.

"Anyone down there?" a voice yelled.

"Here," she tried. Little came out. She tried again. "Here! Hurry, he's hurt."

It seemed forever, but the two officers were down within two minutes, shooting their flashlights ahead of them.

She almost wished the lights were gone. Freddie's wound looked worse under that glare. But his face looked sunken, like that of a wax figure.

"Are you okay, ma'am?" one of them asked.

"Fine, just take care of him," she said, even though the other officer was already attending to Freddie. He turned to the first officer.

"He's not breathing."

A/N: Anybody who's reading "What If No One's Watching", don't worry. I'm still writing that one-just felt like writing this one, also. I don't know how many chapters this will last, probably at least five. I hope to have another update by this weekend.


	2. Chapter 2: After

Chapter 2: After

**Disclaimer: **_**iCarly**_** belongs to Dan.**

Considering the truck she was in had been pushed off a bridge and that she had been knocked out, not to mention that she had spent over an hour in the water, Sam really had very little to show for it, other than an extremely large goose egg, which her mother said made her look like a dehorned unicorn.

That was easy for her mom to joke about, Sam guessed. If it hadn't been for Freddie, Sam would have died, but Pam Puckett waved that off. _You're fine,_ she said. So much for motherly comfort. Although they had been working on their relationship, her daughter's injury wasn't enough to keep Pam at the hospital. She hated hospitals.

"They're just keeping you overnight for observation. If something's wrong, they'll call me," Pam said, and left. She did look like she might throw up, but still Sam thought she could have stayed around for Sam. Plus, Sam didn't want to be alone with her thoughts. In truth, she would have preferred Carly to be with her, but visiting hours were over, and only family was allowed to stay with the patient. Even though Sam thought Carly was more family to her than any Puckett ever would be.

But Carly was with Mrs. Benson. Carly said she had been freaking out about Freddie, and Spencer and Carly were comforting her.

Freddie had saved Sam's life. And he died doing it.

The doctor released Sam the next day. Carly asked her if she wanted to come over, but she had said she wanted to rest. Rest. As if she hadn't been laying in a hospital bed all night, thinking about the accident. The accident that had happened because she liked old bridges.

Sam stayed in her room all day. Her mother knocked on her door once and asked her how she was doing. Sam had said she was fine, and her mother left her alone after that. Motherly concern was still in short supply. Sam thought about how Freddie's mom would have reacted. She thought Mrs. Benson was a different kind of crazy, but at least she showed she cared.

Mrs. Benson. Sam remembered how she treated Carly after the taco truck incident. She couldn't imagine what she would think of Sam.

The next day, after much nagging from Carly, she went to the Shays' apartment. She knocked on the door, something she hadn't done in years, maybe since the first week she had met Carly. Spencer opened the door and pulled her into a hug.

"How you doing, Sam?" She shrugged. She was afraid to talk, afraid she would cry again, like she had in the hospital, like she had in her bedroom, like she had on the grass when the officer told his partner that Freddie wasn't breathing.

Carly ran down the stairs and gave her another Shay hug. She pulled back and looked at Sam's forehead.

"Does it hurt?" Sam nodded. Sam could feel the tears looming in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. She didn't want anybody to see her cry. But she couldn't help it.

"Did you hear, Sam?" Spencer said. She turned to him. "They found the driver. He's been arrested. He should be arraigned tomorrow."

Sam shrugged. What did it matter if they found him now? They should have found him before he drove the truck off the bridge, before Freddie drowned. Before Sam had gotten them kicked out of the carnival. Before Sam had come into Freddie's life.

"You okay, Sam?" Carly asked and placed her hands gently on Sam's cheeks, forcing Sam to look at her. And tears fell.

"It's my fault, Carly. I made him drive him on that bridge. If it wasn't for me Freddie wouldn't have died."

Carly shook her head. "Sam, it's not your fault. It was a drunk driver. And Freddie understands. You know he..."

"He died!" Sam said.

"Well, you know," a voice said from the doorway. "I'll probably do that at least one more time."

And Freddie Benson smiled at her.

"_He's not breathing."_

_Sam looked at the officer, sure he had misspoken, but he didn't even look at her. The other officer joined him. Sam was frozen. Freddie wasn't breathing. _

_One of the officers checked Freddie for a pulse. The other swept inside Freddie's mouth and then began mouth-to-mouth resuscitation. Sam pulled up beside him and grabbed Freddie's hand. It was cold. Or maybe it was her hand that was cold. Everything was cold._

_The officer who had checked Freddie's pulse glanced at her, and then went back to concentrating on Freddie. They had been working on him for about three minutes. Sam was afraid they would stop. She didn't say anything, but inside her head the phrase _Freddie's dead_ was bouncing and rebounding. _

_She heard a cough. She looked at Freddie, caught in one of the flashlights, spewing dark liquid out his mouth. He tried to say something._

"_Just stay still, son. The ambulance is almost here."_

"_J-" Freddie whispered. "JWC 669."_

"_License plate," the pulse-checker said to the other officer and moved away, using the radio on his shoulder to call in the information._

"_What's your name, son?" the other officer asked. _

"_Freddie Benson," he whispered._

"_Who is this young lady?", the officer said, pointing at Sam._

"_Bane of my existence," Freddie said and smiled. The officer returned his smile and asked him a few more questions, all of which Freddie answered correctly. Sam didn't smile. A few minutes before, Freddie had been dead. That's what she thought about._

"You okay, Sam?" Freddie asked. He raised her chin gently with his index finger and looked at her forehead. "I think mine's worse," he said, pointing at the side of his head where the bandage was. "Plus, I drowned. Well, nearly drowned, since drowning implies remaining dead..well...I'm figuring that all out. I'm thinking of doing a report for school, and I want to make sure I get the terminology correct. You know Briggs will mark me off for it, even if I did die."

"That's not funny, Freddie," Sam whispered.

"Of course it is," he said and leaned forward and gently placed a kiss on her forehead, an inch away from her wound. He pulled back and looked at it. "Yeah, I think mine is worse." He turned to Spencer. "I believe you said something about spaghetti tacos, Spence."

"Coming right up," Spencer said, going to the kitchen.

"Are you guys going to school tomorrow?" Carly asked. She had taken one of Sam's hands in her own without Sam knowing it.

"Don't see why not," Freddie said.

"You're still injured," Carly said, gesturing at his head.

"Carly, it's not a big deal. I'll be fine. Besides, I'd rather be at school than home. My mother's afraid of letting me go to the bathroom by myself, as if I would somehow drown myself in the toilet." Spencer chortled in the kitchen. Carly frowned, while Sam continued to look at the ground, her hand limp in Carly's.

"Freddie, you know that you have a new nickname. Gibby texted me that it's already getting around."

"A nickname?" He looked interested. "What is it?"

"Harry Potter." He looked at her with a confused expression. "As in 'The Boy Who Lived.'"

Freddie laughed. "Harry Potter. That's pretty cool. I mean it's no Freddork or Freddweeb, but it's not bad. Right, Puckett?" And he gently nudged Sam and smiled at her, before going into the kitchen with Spencer. "Spencer, do you think I should wear glasses tomorrow, maybe draw a little lightning bolt on my forehead?"

Spencer pondered the question. "Do you have a wand?"

"Sam, are you all right?" Carly whispered.

"I don't think so, Carls."

"So, did you see a white light or something," Spencer asked Freddie. Carly turned around.

"Spencer!"

Freddie held his hand up. "It's okay, Carly. No, no white light. No relatives calling out to me. I did see something, but that could just have been a dream."

"What was it?" Spencer asked.

"I don't mean to be mysterious, but I really prefer to keep it to myself for now," Freddie said and looked at Sam. She could feel the heat of his eyes on her and looked up. He smiled at her. He seemed full of smiles today.

"No problem, Freddo, but you know, if you ever want to talk about it..."

"Thanks, Spencer."

"Who wants spaghetti tacos?"

Sam didn't. She didn't feel like eating ever again. Freddie had died. And the fact that he was now in the kitchen, laughing and pretending to cast spells, did nothing to change that.

**A/N: I know this chapter is a little short (at least for me). I wanted to get it out there, though, since I received so much feedback about NOT killing Freddie. I was going to reply back to people that I had no intention to kill Freddie, before I realized, well, yeah, I kind of did. **

**Thanks for reviews from: TheRockAngel, inkwriter822, Zetay121, AlexaJohn185, ShooshYeah35, Geekquality, and iloveyou-ihateyou.**

**Since the majority of the comments were about not killing Freddie, I apologize for what I did at the start of this chapter. That was my original plan, though; I didn't do it just to torture you. That was just an added benefit.**


	3. Chapter 3: The Monster Under the Bridge

Chapter 3: The Monster Under the Bridge

**Disclaimer: The dog ate the legal documents declaring my ownership of **_**iCarly**_**, so Dan gets to keep it. For now.**

_There is no guardrail on this bridge. Sam knows that's not where the danger is, anyway. She tries to tell Freddie. She looks over to him. He is smiling at her. His hand is a warm comfort around her smaller one. It is night. The stars are out, but there is no moon._

We shouldn't be here_, she tries to say. This is all wrong. The wooden slats of the bridge groan under their footsteps. Freddie's mouth is moving. Sam can see word-clouds coming from his lips, even though it is still the tail-end of summer, and it shouldn't be cool enough._

_Freddie squeezes her hand and bends down, kissing her on the forehead. He pulls back, still with that smile, that Benson smile. Her head hurts where he kissed her, and she feels her forehead with her free hand, but there is nothing there. _

_Freddie says something again, and she thinks she can hear it, almost. She leans toward him to capture the words._

"_Who's that trip-trapping on my bridge?" She pulls back from him, trying to tell him he shouldn't have. He doesn't know what could happen._

_But he will know now. Because it _does _happen. Further down the bridge, slats burst as it comes from under the bridge. It had been hiding there, waiting specifically for them. It is larger than the scope of Sam's mind, all snarling teeth and hot mucus. It moves toward them, its tail crashing against more slats, destroying them. _

_Freddie pushes her back and stands in front of her._

No, Freddie, don't_, she tries to scream, but again nothing comes out. And the monster is upon him._

_And it gobbles him up. She catches light dying in Freddie's eye as he disappears into the beast's mouth. And then he is gone._

_The monster looks at her._

And she woke up. She had this dream in the hospital. And on her first night home. Perhaps she will have this dream every night of her life, as punishment for letting Freddie die.

"He didn't die," she whispered. But he did. Just because he was breathing now and laughing and kissing her on the forehead didn't mean he hadn't been on the bank under the bridge, no breath in his mouth, no beat in his heart.

No light in his eye.

She thought about not going to school, about just throwing the covers over her head and shutting out the world. And if a monster appeared, let it eat her.

She knew, though, that if she didn't go to school, that Carly would be checking in with her. And Freddie would. Freddie would come to the rescue again. Freddie Benson, always saving girls from certain disaster.

Am I really trying to blame him for saving my life, she thought. Maybe. Maybe she was. Because if she didn't blame him, she would have to think about how it was her fault he had died.

She put fresh clothes on. She brushed her hair. She did everything she could to appear normal. And she went to school, despite the deep gnawing in her gut. She didn't know what it was at first. Sam Puckett had never known much of fear. Until now.

Carly was waiting for her at school. She hugged Sam.

"Have you seen him?" Carly asked.

"Who?"

"Freddie. I thought he was kidding, but he really did it. I don't know what's come over him. Wait, there he is." Carly pointed. Sam turned to see.

Freddie Benson walked down the hallway, seemingly unconcerned at the stares he got, not just from Carly and Sam, but from everybody in the hallway. One freshman girl stared at him, her mouth hung open like a broken window shade. He smiled at her, and she gave a small wave so sluggish it seemed like her hand had been entombed in jello.

Freddie was wearing a robe over a sweater. He had glasses on. On his forehead, clearly drawn with a marker, was a jagged lightning bolt.

In his hand he held a wooden stick that could have been a wand.

He was Harry Potter.

Sam didn't know where the applause started, but soon the entire hallway was clapping. Freddie took it in like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"Hey, ladies," he said, when he came up to Sam and Carly.

"What's going on, Freddie?" Carly said, gesturing at his ensemble.

"Well, I just figured I had to live up to the name. How you doing, Sam?"

"Okay," she said. I saw a monster eat you earlier, but other than that, it's okay, she thought.

"Hey, I was thinking-" The bell rang. "Sorry, I'll catch up with you guys. I have some wizarding to do."

Freddie hadn't been kidding. Sam and Carly heard throughout the morning about Freddie "casting" spells on people. He had even gotten the janitor, a crusty old man who never smiled, to pretend to levitate. He had "turned" one boy, a short freshman named Daxter Robbins, into a frog and had somehow talked the head cheerleader into kissing the boy on the cheek, because "only a kiss from a princess will turn him back." Daxter, who was eight inches shorter than the cheerleader and had a colony of acne across his forehead and down his nose, looked like he wanted to build an alter to worship Freddie.

Sam didn't notice much of the day, except for Freddie. How had he died and come out, willing to look like a fool, while she wanted nothing more than to go to the janitor's closet and hide until everybody left?

"What's up, Sam?" asked the boy wizard. "You okay?"

"Just peachy. Never better." The words were Sam words, but they lacked the Sam attitude. Freddie reached out and put a hand on her cheek gently. Dying had made him very touchy-feely, it seemed.

"Sam, we're fine."

"You died."

"Maybe. There was some debate about that at the hospital whether or not it was really death. Some of the doctors couldn't agree about it. Some said dead, some said not. Apparently they could only agree that I had stopped breathing. But I'm breathing now."

"No thanks to me."

"Sam, you didn't send my truck off the bridge."

The bell rang, and Sam took the opportunity to get away. If it hadn't been Sam doing it, it may have even appeared she had been running away.

Sam wasn't concentrating in class, a situation not entirely foreign to her. Except this time she kept replaying the bridge scene, the real one and the one she had dreamed. She didn't notice Ms. Briggs in front of her desk until she had yelled Sam's name for the second time.

"Are we boring you, Miss Puckett?"

"No, sorry. It won't happen again."

"What? Sorry? Are you sassing me? Go to the principal's office." Sam picked up her stuff and left without comment. It didn't really seem to matter where she was; the monster under the bridge would be there.

She didn't notice Carly sending a text.

"Sam, come in," Principal Franklin said, after she had been sitting outside his office for a few minutes. She followed him, sitting in a chair that had become familiar to her over the years.

"So, why are you here, Sam?" Except for the weekly meetings, this was the question that began all their sessions, even though he always knew exactly why she was there.

"I told Ms. Briggs I was sorry, Principal Franklin." He raised his eyes at his proper title. Sam had always called him Ted, despite his mild admonishments not to.

"Well, we can't have that happening, can we, Sam?" She shrugged. "Sam, would you like to talk about the accident?"

"No," she whispered. He looked at her and nodded.

"Okay, Sam, but if you ever do want to talk, I'm here. You can talk to me any time. Do you understand?" She nodded. Somehow, even with all of Sam's trips to his office, it almost seemed like he liked her. She had heard his secretary refer to her as "Principal Franklin's favorite," and it hadn't sounded like sarcasm.

"You can go now, Sam. Why don't you go the nurse's office until the bell rings, and then you can go to your next class." He got up and walked her out of his office. Freddie Benson was sitting outside the door.

"What are you doing here, Freddie?" she asked.

"I have to see Principal Franklin. Something about one of the spells I cast," he said, grinning. Principal Franklin arched an eyebrow at him and gestured Freddie to enter the office. Sam stood there until Principal Franklin gave her a little nod to send her on her way.

She sat at the nurse's office until the bell rang. Principal Franklin must have notified the nurse she would be there, because she didn't bother Sam. When the bell rang, she went to her next class. She sat down and started to think about the bridge again. When Freddie Benson entered the classroom she at first thought it was still just a part of her daydream. She wasn't sure why Miss Taylor would be in her daydream or what was in the note Freddie passed her.

"Sam Puckett?" Sam sat up. It wasn't a daydream. "Please go with Mr. Benson." Again, she found herself leaving another classroom, something she would have been elated at the previous week.

She followed Freddie without comment. She thought they were going back to Principal Franklin's office. Or that they were going to have to talk to the guidance counselor. She didn't even notice they were outside until they stepped out from under the awning, and the sun made her eyes squint.

"What's going on, Freddie?" she finally asked, following him as he walked to the parking lot.

"We got to go someplace." He had a key fob in his hand, and he held it up, pressing the button, until he saw some lights flash. He headed toward the car.

"Whose car is this?"

"Principal Franklin's."

"You stole his keys?" she asked.

"No, he's letting me borrow his car, since my truck is...out of commission. Get in." She did. She put her seat belt on, disregarding how uncomfortable the shoulder strap felt on her chest. She was in a vehicle. With Freddie. He was driving.

"We're not going to the bridge, are we, Freddie?" she asked. He turned to her. Her voice was a little girl's voice, one that was scared of the dark. And the closet. And monsters under the bed (bridge).

"No, Sam, no bridges," he said and gently patted her leg. She nodded, but her right hand grasped tightly to the door handle. She trusted Freddie more than any male who had ever been in her life, but she kept a sharp eye out for any bridges anyway. She concentrated on that so much she didn't notice they had stopped until Freddie took her hand.

"We're here, Sam."

She looked. They were at the courthouse. Her mind was muddled, though, and she still didn't understand until they had gone into the courtroom. Something Spencer had said the day before. What was it?

Arraignment.

Sam tensed. "No," she whispered. She tried to get up, but Freddie had been holding her hand. He pulled her gently down and wrapped his arm around her waist. His hold was gentle; she could have broken free if she tried. But she didn't.

Freddie leaned over, his chin touching her shoulder and whispered in her ear. "It's okay, Sammy, I'm here." She tried to say something, but then the bailiff called the court to order. With Freddie's guidance she stood up and then sat back down.

She looked. There he was, the monster under the bridge. Except he was in disguise, one only she could see through. She knew under the short balding man in a rumpled suit was the beast.

The man shuffled up when he was called before the judge. He stood next to his lawyer, who looked like he might have been roused from the drunk tank for this appearance. When he was asked how he pled, the man grunted a "not guilty", even though everyone in the courtroom could read a different tale on his face. The man, Richard Stevenson, had four DUIs over the last three years, and the judge set bail at thirty thousand dollars. Because Stevenson was unable to pay bail at the time, he would be held in custody.

He began to walk by Sam and Freddie. A court officer stood on each side of him, and they tensed when Freddie stood up. But they stopped. Sam sat, with her head down, waiting for the monster to eat Freddie.

"Mr. Stevenson?" Freddie said. The man looked at him through glazed, troubled eyes. The officers had their free hands on the butts of their guns. "My name is Freddie Benson. I was in the truck that night." Stevenson's eyes blazed with fear. "I just wanted to let you know that I forgive you."

Freddie gently took Sam's hand and pulled her up. They walked out of the courthouse together. Freddie never looked back.

Sam did. The officers were guiding him away, but he had his head turned toward Sam and Freddie. He didn't look like a monster; he only looked confused. But if he wasn't the monster, who was? Who had caused Freddie's death? _I'm the monster_, Sam thought.

_Who's that trip-trapping on my bridge?_

**A/N: I believe chapter 2 of this story had the most reviews for any chapter I've written. Nobody wants Freddie dead, apparently.**

**Thank you for reviews from kiyokoseddie, Charlie Merrit, Zetay121, EmilyHelene, Moviepal, ShooshYeah35, popcorn1001, Julefor, TheRockAngel, iloveyou-ihateyou, Geekquality, SilentDreamsxx, and jhulkmn08.**

**Charlie Merrit: I'm not a fan of those types of stories, either. And I agree about people forgetting about the show being a sitcom, but I just couldn't not write this story (plus, Freddie didn't stay dead). Obviously, as we can see in this chapter, Sam isn't throwing herself at anything. I wanted to explore what it would be like if the two characters faced a life in which their perceptions about fear were somewhat reversed, and I felt this was the best way to approach this. Don't worry; there will be no cutting or suicide in this story.**

**ShooshYeah35: I'm starting to think I've written a chapter poorly if I don't fluster you about something during it.**

**Julefor: Carly and Spencer were a very delicate reaction for me. I couldn't have them gnashing their teeth and beating their breasts because, well, Freddie was alive. But I also really wanted that doorway scene, so I had to walk a fine line. I originally didn't have the line in there about them providing support to Mrs. Benson, and I think that helped tip the scale toward, as you put it, being strong for others. Nobody in this story is going to realize they love someone because the other person saved his or her life. We already know how Freddie feels about Sam. And if Sam loves Freddie, it's because she loved him before. The events that happen in this story might prompt people to express their feelings, but everybody knew what their feelings were before the accident-they just might not have admitted them to other people. We might get into it, but right now it seems like Sam has other issues to deal with first, don't you think? Cue evil laughter.**

**SilentDreamsxx: I apologize if it seemed I meant for Freddie to die and stay dead, but that was never the intention. Everything that happened to Freddie in this story is how I intended for it to before I even started to write it. He was always going to "die", and he was always going to be standing in the doorway, smiling, after Sam said "Freddie died." The only change that happened was I posted the second chapter sooner than I originally planned because I had a momentary pang of authorly guilt, as so many people were afraid that I had killed Freddie for good.**


	4. Chapter 4: Blood in the Halls

Chapter 4: Blood in the Halls

**Disclaimer: I own something...I can't remember what. But I'm pretty sure it's no **_**iCarly**_**.**

They had driven from the courthouse in silence. When they got to school Freddie turned to Sam and said, "Sam, if you ever want to talk, we can."

She nodded and got out of the car without a word.

Freddie thought it was over, Sam knew. The man whose car had pushed them off the bridge would be going to jail, most likely. He had pled not guilty, but anybody who looked at his face could read a different tale. His lawyer didn't seem to be any big shakes, either.

The problem was Stevenson had just been the gasoline on the fire. It took somebody else to set the fire in motion. That was Sam. She was the one who got kicked out of the carnival. Freddie wouldn't have left if he hadn't been the one to drive her. And she was the one who insisted they go on that bridge. If there was a monster under the bridge, Sam had been the one to feed Freddie to it.

Looking back at their lives together, she realized that most of the time Freddie was hurt or put in harm's way, it was because of her. Sam Puckett had been the one. All those times she had pranked him or hit him-how easily could he have died if something had gone wrong?

Now, when she was with Freddie, she was afraid to do anything, worried about what chain reaction she might set in course. She was concerned about all her friends, but she had already killed Freddie once. She had heard something about how once a person had been struck by lightning the likeliness they would be struck a second time increased. She didn't know if that was true, but when it came to Freddie Benson, she knew she was the lightning. No, not the lightning, the lightning rod.

She thought about running away, but found that, ha ha, she was afraid. And as much as she was frightened how she might influence Freddie's life, she realized she couldn't leave him. He had become as much a part of her life as Carly had. In some ways, a more important part.

So she was going to stay around Freddie. She just was not going to do anything that might lead to another bridge. When it came to Freddie, she would be inactive, a follower and not a leader. Freddie would be safe, then.

Freddie had other plans, though.

She stood with Carly and Freddie in the hallway the next day. Sam engaged sparingly in conversation, since Freddie would keep pushing her if she didn't. They were interrupted several times as girls stopped to flirt with Freddie. It seemed dead guys were really hot. Either that, or a lot of girls had a Harry Potter fetish. Maybe both.

Freddie returned their flirting easily.

"Lisa Winston is the most popular girl in school, Freddie. You should ask her out," Carly said, after Lisa had walked away from them. Lisa had leaned into him, her hand resting on his arm, telling him how "funny" she though what he did the day before was. Before the accident, Sam would have thrown her against a locker, telling her she might get nub cooties, even as she thought of how she wish she could be the one to lean on Freddie like that. Not this Sam, though. Freddie deserved someone like that.

"She's not my type, Carly," he said.

"What's your type then, Freddie?" Carly asked.

He was about to answer when they heard a commotion farther down the hall. They saw Daxter Robbins slide on the floor about ten feet, with Mitch Quinn storming behind him. Mitch was the biggest guy on the football team and had a temper bigger than his body. He bent down and easily pulled Daxter up, holding him so that his feet were a good foot above the ground.

"You're dead," Mitch said.

"We need to get a teacher," Carly said, turning toward Sam and Freddie. Except Freddie wasn't there. He was standing in front of Mitch. He grabbed Daxter and pulled him away. Mitch, in his surprise, let the boy go.

"Leave him alone, Mitch."

"Little twerp thinks he can get a kiss from one of our girls? Just gonna teach him a lesson. Out of my way, Benson." The cheerleader who had kissed Daxter on the cheek wasn't even Mitch's girlfriend; she dated the quarterback, who had been in the hallway when his girlfriend had kissed Daxter. He had even gave the boy a friendly pat on the back.

"Not gonna happen," Freddie said. Daxter had scrambled down the hallway, out of Mitch's grasp. Sam looked around. There were no teachers. There never was, not until too late.

"You like dying so much you wanna do it again?"

"I'm not the biggest fan, but I don't think I have to worry about it with you." Mitch charged him, knocking Freddie down. Freddie was up quickly and aimed a kick at Mitch's knee.

Freddie was no fighter. If his opponent had been skilled and not relying purely on his brute strength, Freddie would have been defeated quickly. Mitch's only approach was a straight-ahead one, leaving destruction in his wake. Freddie didn't allow himself to be caught in that wake, though.

Mitch caught Freddie with a large fist on the side of his head. His stitches opened, blood spilled down the side of his face. To Sam, he looked too much like the night he had died, and she hid behind Carly. Carly grabbed Daxter and told him to go find a teacher. He ran down the hallway.

Despite his hit-and-move approach, Freddie wasn't fairing too well. He had hit Mitch plenty. Unfortunately, Mitch was like a wall. Freddie was just fast enough to avoid the full weight of Mitch's fists. His fist grazed Freddie's cheek, opening a streamlet of blood there.

It was Freddie's blood that did Mitch in. As he moved in on Freddie, Mitch slipped on a small pool of Freddie's blood that had fallen from his head wound. He tried to keep standing, but fell on his back. Freddie moved in quickly. He had not been in many fights in his life and had no intention of fighting honorably. He brought his foot forward and kicked Mitch in the nuts. He immediately got on top of Mitch and started hammering fists into his face.

He only stopped when Principal Franklin pulled him off Mitch. "To my office, now! You boys, get him to the nurse's office." He pointed to other football players in the hall and gestured for them to take Mitch. None of them had stepped in when Freddie had been hitting Mitch.

As he walked by Sam, Freddie gave her a small smile. Half his face was covered in blood.

Sam didn't see Freddie in either of the classes she had with him. She listened to other people talk about the fight. According to them, Mitch's nose had been broken. And parts of him were swelling. His father had come to pick him up. He yelled at Principal Franklin for a few moments, but when he and Mitch left he was yelling at his son for losing a fight to "some pansy tech geek."

Freddie was standing by her locker when school ended. The side of his head had been re-bandaged, and the blood had been cleaned off his face.

"What's up, Sam?"

"Are you okay, Freddie?" she asked.

"Yeah, just gonna have some bruising. Not a big deal."

"Freddie, it was a big deal. He could have..."

"Killed me? Yeah, maybe, but he didn't. And he didn't beat up Daxter, either, so I call it a win for the good guys." He smiled at her. She felt the urge to punch him in the arm for being so stupid. She didn't. That was the old Sam.

"What happened?" she asked, her voice back to the whispered monotone that had become its norm.

"Suspended. Three days. Mitch's dad wanted me expelled. Wanted to file a lawsuit, too. But when Principal Franklin told him he had witnesses that said Mitch started everything, he started to back off.. He stopped completely when he was told about Mitch's high school record. I think it may be worse than yours." He smiled again, but she wasn't looking at him. A small frown creased his face for a moment, and then was gone. "When Principal Franklin talked about Mitch not being able to play football, hid dad dragged him out of there."

Freddie Benson was suspended. Sam tried to wrap her mind around that.

"Does your mom know?"

"Yeah, she was here. She's waiting in the parking lot right now. She's...not happy. Says I'm too reckless." Sam agreed with his mother. "Ready for rehearsal tonight?"

"What? I thought we weren't going to do the show this week."

"I got nothing else going on," Freddie said. And he laughed. He reached out and grabbed her hands in his. She looked down at their connection. "It's going to be okay, Sam."

"Fredward Benson!" Sam looked over his shoulder and saw his mother coming down the hallway. Freddie rolled his eyes and smiled. He turned around and said, "I'm coming, Mom". Sam saw a small splash of blood behind his ear.

Freddie turned back to her and gave her hands a small squeeze. "Bye, Sam."

**A/N: I received a PM about the reveal that Freddie wasn't actually dead, and that it didn't appear that Sam knew he was alive. I apologize if anybody felt that way after reading chapter 2. I was very careful in being controlled in my language in that chapter (hence, Sam saying, "he died" rather than "he's dead"). That was also the reason I had the flashback scene right after I revealed Freddie in the doorway, so that we know that Sam was there when he was revived, so that when they have their conversation, we know that she had known he was alive now. Again, sorry if anybody was confused by that.**

**Thank you for reviews from LizzieGirly223, Moviepal, Charlie Merrit, Zetay121, popcorn1001, TheRockAngel, Purple550, Geekquality, ShooshYeah35, and jhulkmn08.**

**LizzieGirly223: I don't know that I would use the word "paranoid" with Sam. Some people might, but that is not how I would describe her. I hope this chapter helped more with seeing what is going on with her.**

**Charlie Merrit: While I wouldn't say they have been changed by the accident, I would say it did open up different avenues for them. That doesn't mean they will be at the end of the story the way they are in this chapter. But I definitely believe they won't be the same as they were at the beginning of the story. As for fear and fearlessness...well, we some some highlight in this chapter and will see more for both Sam and Freddie.**

**jhulkmn08: We will see more of Freddie's point-of-view, but right now I want to see things mostly from Sam's point-of-view. Sorry if I confused you. Please let me know what part is confusing, and I will try to clear it up. I will say that Sam really doesn't think the drunk driver is an actual monster; it's just her fear and guilt that is making a movie in her mind. Sam is going through a lot right now, but she's not crazy. Sorry if my imagery got in the way.**

**ShooshYeah35: I think most of the chapters are going to have more of Sam point-of-view, but I know of at least one chapter coming up (not sure when) that will be pretty much all Freddie. And you will definitely know what is going on in his mind.**


	5. Chapter 5: Two Minds

Chapter 5: Two Minds

**Disclaimer: **_**iCarly**_**? No, I don't have that. Check with me next week. We might have it in stock then.**

Sam felt strange. With Freddie gone from school for three days, she felt lonely, even with Carly around. And yet, the fear that seemed to be compressing her heart lessened.

Freddie texted her often the first day, ensuring her of all the cool things he had done while she had to suffer at school. He also asked her how she was doing to an annoying degree.

_Whats it 2 u,_ she had texted, exasperated.

_Because I care about you, Sam_, was the reply. She didn't reply to that. Freddie caring about her-that brought the fear back. She wasn't stupid and she wasn't being ignorant; she knew they both cared about each other. They had moved past the frenemy stage into the friend stage, and now...well, now they were just standing against the wall of the Romance room, playing a game of chicken, waiting for the other to make a move. Except Freddie was now Fearless Freddie, and he wasn't playing chicken anymore. She had noted all the times he had touched her since the accident, never inappropriately, but they were also touches that perhaps exceeded being merely friendly ones. Freddie was going to cross that barrier, smashing all the sawhorses that clearly stated this was a friend zone.

And that scared Sam most of all.

She wanted to be with him. She couldn't be with him. She couldn't bear the thought of hurting him again, not after all the times she had already done that in her life.

She walked down the hallway, with Carly by her side. They watched as Mitch Quinn parted the crowd. His defeat had not made him humble, like in movies Carly had made Sam watch with her. He looked angrier than ever, and the misshapen mess that was his nose didn't help matters. He stopped in front of Sam and Carly.

"Tell your boyfriend he's dead," he said, pointing to Sam. Sam cast her eyes down. Sam-before-the-accident, trapped in the deeper regions of Sam's mind, screamed for her to take him down, punch him in the nose again-it would be the easiest thing. Yeah, it would, but then what would happen when he _did_ find Freddie again? Wouldn't it just be worse?

Mitch walked down the hall without another glance at them.

She went home with Carly. She stopped outside the apartment and looked at the door to Freddie's door. She gestured to Carly that she was going to talk to Freddie, and Carly nodded. Sam knocked on the door.

It wasn't Freddie who answered. Instead, his mother, looking frazzled, stared at Sam. "What are you doing here?"

"I...was looking for Freddie."

"Well, he's not here. I'm surprised you're not with him. It sounds like something you would force him to do."

"Do what?" Sam asked.

"He went bungee jumping. It seems the state of Washington says once you're sixteen you don't have to have your parent's permission."

"He went bungee jumping?" Sam gaped at her. Mrs. Benson snapped out of her own thoughts and stared back at Sam.

"Why don't you come in, Sam?"

Sam followed her in. She had never spent any time with Mrs. Benson without anybody else around. Mr.s Benson gestured for Sam to sit down.

"Sam, are you okay?" Sam was surprised at the question. Carly and Freddie asked her that all the time. Principal Franklin had asked her a few times. Other than that, nobody really asked. Her mom did the once, but as far as Sam knew, Pam Puckett no longer thought about the accident. Sam shrugged in response to the question. "Bungee jumping seems like something that would be right down your alley."

"But Freddie could get hurt," Sam said, and burst into tears. She had kept the tears away around other people, and now she was crying in front of Mrs. Benson. She didn't think it could get more awkward. Then it did, when Mrs. Benson put her arms around Sam and pulled her close. Sam tensed. Then she collapsed, tears not creeping out, but falling in streams down her cheeks. Mrs. Benson gently patted her head and rocked her slowly.

After about two minutes, the tears had slowed and Sam pulled away from Mrs. Benson. She was embarrassed to show such weakness to somebody she had only shown scorn to before. Mrs. Benson got up and brought a box tissues back to Sam. Sam took a few out of the box and wiped at her eyes.

"Sam, what's upsetting you?" Mrs. Benson asked in a tone she had never heard from Freddie's mother before.

"It's my fault. If it wasn't for me Freddie wouldn't have...died." She wiped again, as more tears fell. Mrs. Benson sat back and looked at her.

"Why do you say that, Sam?"

"He never would have left the carnival if I hadn't gotten kicked out. And we wouldn't have been on the bridge if I hadn't made him drive there." Mrs. Benson sighed.

"Sam, I'm going to tell you something. I won't ask you not to tell Freddie, because it would be unfair to ask that of you. All I can ask is that before you say anything to him about it, you think whether or not you are helping him in telling him." Sam stared at her. Mrs. Benson nodded, as if she had made a decision. "What do you know about Freddie's father?"

"Nothing." The iCarly trio had studiously sidestepped any discussion of missing or absent parents. She and Carly had talked a few times, but the only thing she had ever said about her father in front of Freddie had been a wise crack about how her father had told her mother he was going to come back. Freddie had never said anything about his father to Carly, either.

"When Freddie was three, my husband, Greg, he went down the street to the convenience store to get me some ice cream. I just had a craving for it, and he would always do anything he could for me. Even though it was after midnight, and he had to work the next day." Mrs. Benson's eyes no longer saw Sam. She had tiny tears hanging off the edge of her eyelids, and she wiped at them absently. "On his way there, he heard something in an alley. He investigated. He was always a little nosy." She laughed. "There was a woman there. And...she was being attacked by a man. He was trying to rape her. And Greg pulled him off of her. The man ran away. But not before he stabbed Greg in the stomach."

Mrs. Benson was silent for a moment, as she wiped the tears off her cheeks. They had stopped falling from her eyes. Sam grabbed a tissue and wiped at her own face.

"He ran past the convenience store Greg was going to. They had a camera aimed at the entrance way, so the police could see what he looked like. Plus, the girl described him. His fingerprints were on the knife. He was easy to catch. My Greg was still dead, though."

"Does Freddie know?"

"He knows he died. I didn't tell him anything else, and he never asked. But Freddie's a smart boy. He's good with computers. The girl sends me a card every year on the anniversary of Greg's death, and Freddie never asks about it. He knows." Sam thought about that, and wondered when Freddie found out. And then did he go over to Carly's apartment, only for Sam to call him names and pick on him?

"Why are you telling me this?" Sam asked.

"Because Greg never would have gone out that night if I hadn't insisted that I simply must have ice cream."

Sam opened her mouth to protest, and then shut it. Mrs. Benson nodded.

"I could tell you that after all these years I've forgiven myself for that, that I know it wasn't me who stabbed him. It wasn't me that killed him. But I won't. I just found ways to cope with it, to move past it as well as I could. One of those ways is to be so protective of my son that sometimes he wants to yell at me and his friends call me insane."

Sam blushed.

"So I do that, Sam. But I don't close up all the way. Do you think if I was that protective of Freddie I would ever let you anywhere near him?"

Sam snorted despite herself.

"Sam, do you love my son?" Sam stared at her and felt the familiar protests want to leave her lips: _that nub? I could never love him. I "love" beating him_. Instead, she nodded.

"He loves you, too." Upon Sam's look, she waved her hands. "Oh, he would never say anything like that to me. Not to his mother. But mothers just know sometimes. And you know, too. I'm not sharing any secrets you didn't know." Again, Sam slowly nodded.

"Why don't you hate me?" Sam whispered. Mrs. Benson looked at her. "You hated Carly after the taco truck hit Freddie. Why don't you hate me?"

"I never hated Carly, Sam. I don't like her, but that's because she never appreciated how Freddie felt about her. Yes, I did blame her for him being hit, even though I know it wasn't her fault. There's just something about Benson men and their need to save women." She laughed. "Plus, Carly has always been a little too prissy for me."

Sam chuckled lightly. She looked at Mrs. Benson. "I was going to tell him we couldn't be around each other anymore." Mrs. Benson grimaced.

"If you did that, Sam, then maybe I might hate you a little. Do you think you would hurt him less if you rejected him?"

Sam shook her head.

Mrs. Benson grabbed Sam's hands in hers. Maybe that was a Benson family trait. "Just think about what I said. I know Freddie misses you...misses the Sam he knew before. I can't say I'm terribly upset about you being worried about him bungee jumping." She shuddered. "But, despite what you and he might think, my son's happiness is important to me."

Sam nodded. Mrs. Benson led her to the door.

"Sam, take care of yourself. And if you need anybody to talk to, I'm here." She smiled at Sam. "And so is Freddie."

Sam stared at the closed door for a few seconds. It _had_ been a strange day. She was actually jealous of the mother Freddie had. She took a moment to text Freddie, warning him about what Mitch had said, and then went into Carly's apartment.

**A/N: I found some of the best **_**iCarly**_** fanfiction I read involved Mrs. Benson, and I always liked to see her view of the gang beyond the normal sitcom stuff on TV, so I'm pretty happy with this chapter.**

**I just want to reiterate that we will get more from Freddie later. I have been concentrating on mostly Sam on purpose, because of the chapter coming up that is all Freddie. You'll see.**

**By the way, I don't know if there is any law in Washington about bungee jumping for minors, so I just thought to cover my bases.**

**Thank you for reviews from: QueenV101, Zetay121, LizzieGirly223, mekaylawrotethis, Kressxblack, ShooshYeah35, justshine09, popcorn1001, Charlie Merrit, jhulkmn08, and Geekquality.**

**mekaylawrotethis: Thank you for the review. I'm sorry I haven't reviewed your story, but I tend to avoid stories that have that plot point in it-it's nothing against your storytelling ability, just that I rather not read certain things. **

**Kressxblack: I think that people can somewhat guess why Freddie has been acting the way he has. But everybody will definitely know, especially once the story gets to his chapter (wow, I'm really hyping that chapter; I better make sure it's good!).**

**popcorn1001: That was one thing that bothered me about the Victorious crossover (well, more than one thing bothered me)-that the fact that Freddie getting into a fight is so laughable. Stand Nathan Kress next to whoever played Stephen, and (except for the height) what would make Freddie getting into a fight with him seem so unbelievable? Yes, he isn't a fighter, but, as I pointed out in another story, he's survived Sam all these years, so he knows how to take a punch!**

**Charlie Merrit: You're right, we heard from Mitch this chapter. But I'm sure that's all we've heard of him, right?**


	6. Chapter 6: The Swimmers

Chapter 6: The Swimmers

**Disclaimer: I have a bit of an attitude right now, and I'll own that, but I don't think I will ever own **_**iCarly**_**.**

On Saturday morning she discovered a boy on her front porch. Not a boy. _The_ boy. Her boy.

"What are you doing here, Freddie?"

"We're going for a ride," he said, dangling the keys off his fingers. She looked beyond him and saw his mother's car parked next to the curb.

"What if I don't feel like going anywhere?" she asked. She was still wearing her nightclothes, and quite frankly wasn't looking forward to skydiving or auto racing or whatever it was this new Freddie had in mind.

"Then I'll just stand out here and serenade you until you do."

"I'm not going anywhere, Freddie, " she said and closed the door. He was halfway through his second verse of "Bust a Move" when she came out, with hastily thrown-on clothes and marched past him. She got in the passenger's side.

"Music?" he asked, as he sat next to her. She shook her head. He nodded and pulled away from the curb.

"My mom said you came by yesterday."

Sam grunted.

"What did you guys talk about?" he asked.

"About what an idiot you are," she said. He laughed.

"My mom has expressed that a few times. By the way, I wouldn't worry about Mitch. People are already laughing at him; I don't think he wants to risk a nerd breaking his nose again."

"He'll kill you," she said.

He shrugged. "Well, I've been there before," he said, and grinned.

"Shut up, Freddie." He looked at her and nodded. He continued to drive. She thought later that maybe he had provoked her on purpose, so that she wouldn't pay too much attention to their surroundings. Because they were at the bridge before she had time to register the fact.

He pulled onto the shoulder before the bridge. There was police tape where the part of the guard railing Freddie's truck hit had been.

"What are we doing here, Freddie?" Sam asked. Her heart raced. She saw past the bridge and saw how little distance there was between the two shores, and yet it had been enough to drown Freddie.

"It's not your fault, Sam."

"What?"

"I know you think this happened because of you. That I died because of you. But it's not your fault. It was just bad luck and a drunk driver. Not you." He looked at her with his open and honest eyes.

"We wouldn't have been out here if it wasn't for me," she said. He walked along the bridge until he came where his truck had gone off.

"No, Sam, we wouldn't have been here if it wasn't for me."

"What?"

"I left the carnival because I wanted to be with you, Sam. I drove along this bridge because I wanted to make you happy. If you're to blame, then so am I."

"Why would you do that?"

"Because I love you, nub," he said and smiled at her. Yes, Freddie was definitely done playing chicken.

"What if I don't love you?" she asked.

"You do," he said. She shook her head. "And, if you don't, I still love you. And I won't let you blame yourself for something that's not your fault. And I won't let not be Sam. The Sam I'm in love with."

"It was my fault!" she shouted. He nodded.

"If that's the case, there's only one thing you can do to make up for it. You'll have to save my life."

"Wha—" And Freddie leaped over the police tape into the water below.

"Freddie!" She ran to the police tape and looked down, ignoring the queasiness that filled her, being this close. Freddie was about twenty feet below her. He waved at her.

"I think I'm drowning, Sam," he said, laughing. He went under the water, with one hand dancing around above the surface. He came back up. "Gotta save me, Sam."

"I'm not going down there. You can swim to shore."

"Don't think so. I'm having flashbacks. Maybe some PTSD." He maneuvered so that he was floating on his back, closing his eyes to the sun moving toward the center of the sky.

Sam stood there for five minutes. She realized he wasn't going to move.

"Damn it," she whispered and scooted to the edge and slowly lowered herself over, dropping gracelessly. Freddie looked over at the splash.

"My hero," he called. She swam toward him, and he straightened up. She stopped a few feet away from him.

"Are you going to head to shore?"

"Only if you promise to carry me if I fall." He smiled at her and started moving. After a moment, she followed.

When he was on the shore, standing in thick grass, he held out his hand to help her out. She ignored it and scooted up on her own. She looked at him.

"You're an asshole." He nodded.

"You came for me. That's the important thing."

"No, it's not, Freddie. The important thing is that you can't keep doing this. I don't know if you think that you're somehow immortal just because you came back from death once, but you're not. And I'm not going to stand around and watch you die, just because you're now Mr. Fearless."

"I'm not fearless," he said.

"Well, you certainly act like you are."

"Sam, I went through something real life-changing. We both did. I'm not fearless; I just don't let the fear control me. You should know something about that. You used to be like that."

"Yeah, and look what happened, Freddie. You died!"

"I'm alive, Sammy. And there are still two things that scare me that I can't seem to move past the fear."

"What's that?" She watched him get up and saw how his wet clothes clung to him. She looked down at herself and pulled her shirt forward and crossed her arms.

"I still can't handle snakes."

Snakes?"

"Yeah, I tried. Went to the pet store and asked if I could pick one up. But when I tried, just couldn't do it. So definitely not fearless." He stepped closer to her.

"What's the other thing you're afraid of?" she asked, looking up to him.

"You." He reached out and put his hands on her cheeks, lowering his lips to hers. For a moment she let herself succumb to his kiss, to return it.

She pulled back. "Freddie, we can't." She expected him to protest, but he didn't. He just looked at her with those eyes. "I just can't do this, Freddie. I can't be with you and think about how I could hurt you or cause you to get hurt."

"Sammy, people get hurt every day. It just happens, you know. I'm not going to force you. You know I love you. I know you love me. Maybe we've known that for a while and were just afraid to do anything about it, whether it's because we were worried about ruining our friendship or you didn't like the thought of being with a nerd." Sam smiled despite herself. "But I'm going to be here, Sam. You can't let the fear win."

He came forward again, but this time it was only to hug her. There was no passion in that hug, only comfort.

"Come on, Sam. I have a blanket in the car," he said and they walked up to the car together.

**A/N: Coming up next—Freddie's chapter. I think there might be two or three chapters left in this story. We'll have to see how it goes.**

**Thank you for reviews from: TheRockAngel, jusstshine09, LizzieGirly223, Julefor, ShooshYeah35, Purple550, jhulkmn08, TonyTone, Geekquality, mileycfan4eva, clarksonfan, kiyokoseddie, and Icarlya.**

**ShooshYeah35: Thanks for understanding my intention between Sam and Mrs. Benson.**

**Jhulkmn08: I always felt that, despite what they show us on the show, Freddie probably talks to his mom a lot. He is a Mama's Boy, after all, so it wouldn't surprise me that he would share something with her about how he misses the old Sam. **

**TonyTone: No, I didn't see that episode, but the idea of somebody going out to do something for another person and ending up being killed is not an original one. Actually, the whole ice cream idea was because I had seen a video about "sad" moments and somebody included Dawson Leery's dad dying because he reached down to pick up some dropped ice cream and got killed in a car accident. I regret to informed I laughed a little during that, but in my defense, that is only because any thing that causes harm to Dawson Leery must be good for the world.**

**Mileycfan4eva: Not much Carly in this story. However, my story "What if No One's Watching" has plenty of Carly.**

**Icarlya: You're blunt. I can appreciate bluntness. I hope that you can, also. "Freddie is too unlike himself", you say. Yes, that's actually a point of the story. Freddie went through something traumatic. When people go through something like that, they do change, sometimes in surprising ways. Watch an episode from the first season and watch an episode from the fourth season, and tell me the characters haven't changed. Change is a part of life. Each day we encounter circumstances that change us, sometimes just a little, sometimes significantly. As for the "fearless, not stupid" comment I assume you are addressing that about Freddie, but I don't see anything necessarily stupid about him bungee jumping. I am going to assume by your comment about "ridiculous tears" that you've not had many traumatic experiences in your life, and if that is the case, I hope it continues to be. Sam Puckett has cried because she and Carly fought, because she hated a job, and because she and Carly were afraid they might have died on the scaffold, and yet somehow it's ridiculous she cried because the boy she loves technically "died" and she cried while being with the other person in Freddie's life who loves him more than anything. Sorry, but I don't think that's ridiculous. **


	7. Chapter 7: Then I Died

Chapter 7: Then I Died

**Disclaimer: I don't own **_**iCarly**_**. Do you? Then, shut up.**

Sam woke up to find an envelope next to her head. She saw her name on the front of it and recognized the writing as Freddie's. The boy really must have been fearless if he had snuck into her house. He knew she had a baseball bat next to her bed, plus her mother had a gun. And Frothy didn't take kindly to other people. She picked up the envelope and looked at it. Whatever was in it was thick. She opened it. Sam saw several pages of typewritten word.

_Sammy,_

_Don't worry, I'm not trying to apply pressure to you. I just want to explain to you better what happened and why I'm, as you say, "fearless". Of course, truly fearless would have been saying this to you rather than writing it, but I wanted to be able to organize my thoughts properly._

_That night when we were on the shore, I'm not really sure what happened. Spencer asked me if I saw a white light when I died. I told him no. I didn't, but I did see something, and I don't know if it was something I saw when I was technically dead or a dream or whatever. But dreams usually fade, you know, and this didn't fade. Even now I remember every moment of it._

_I saw my funeral, Sam. That was the first thing. I remember when we read Tom Sawyer..well, maybe when Carly and I read Tom Sawyer and you drooled on your desk...there was a scene in which Tom pretended to be dead, and then he showed up at his own funeral. It was kind of like that, except my body was there. In the casket. I walked up to it and saw. You came and stood next to me, Sam. So did my mom and Carly and Spencer. And people from school, some of who I didn't know they even knew me. Maybe they didn't. None of you saw me. I mean the standing me, not the one in the casket. I guess you all saw that one. Ha ha._

_I was standing there and I heard you tell my body that you loved me, and that it was your fault that I was dead. I tried to tell you that it wasn't, but, just like in all those movies, people can't hear a ghost. Or whatever I was. Then my mom bent over and kissed my body on the forehead and she cried and asked why did I have to be so much like my father. I guess maybe you know what I mean about that._

_And then all of a sudden I wasn't at the funeral anymore. I was in a hospital room. And you were there, Sam, in the hospital bed. I thought maybe we had gotten there somehow after the accident, but then I looked closer and realized you were older. And you held a baby in your arms, and you looked up at me, like you saw me, and you said, "you think you are gonna be able to handle being a daddy, Benson?"_

_I tried to say something, but suddenly I was on the fire escape. _Our_ fire escape. And we were there. You and me. But it was you and me on that night, when we kissed. And I saw us kiss. You got up to leave and then things were different, because I didn't tell you that I hated you in that joking way, because I was so freaked out by what happened. Instead I said I had heard second kisses are even better than first kisses, and you smirked at me in that way that only Sam Puckett can. And this time you leaned._

_Then things just started to come at me so quickly. You remember how you and I used to groan whenever we had to watch one of Carly's movies, when the music came on, and we turned to each other and said, "Montage!" It was like that, or maybe it was like what we hear happens to people right before they die, when they see their entire life flash before their eyes. Except it wasn't my life. Not the life I led, but the life I could have led and the life I could lead._

_I must have seen my death twenty different ways, Sam. A few times it was an accident, getting hit by a car crossing the street or being crushed by a tree struck by lightning. Sometimes I died of a disease in my forties or fifties. Sometimes I died of old age. I saw my mom die. I saw Carly die. I saw Spencer and Gibby die. I saw you die._

_Sam, I saw times when we were together at college, and I saw us at our high school twentieth year reunion, and you, me, and Carly hadn't talked to each other since graduation. I saw you and me on our wedding day. And I saw times when we had different spouses._

_Sam, I don't know if it was God or just the lack of oxygen to my brain, but I understood. You remember those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books that used to be around, where, dependent on what choice you make, you had to turn to a certain section of the book, and sometimes what you chose got you killed and sometimes it led you on to greater adventures. This dream was kind of like that. Or, in my nerdiness, I saw it as a computer program flowchart, where you have these IF-THEN statements or CASE statements, where you have to answer yes or no or one of many choices, and the answer leads you onto different paths._

_Sammy, my mom asked me, after the accident and after what she called some of my bizarre behavior, if I wasn't afraid of dying. I am, Sam. I am afraid of dying, but I think even more important is that I'm not afraid of living. And I have been for so long. I don't mean like one of those people who can't handle life so badly that they hole themselves up inside their houses, afraid to even set foot on their own front yards. I just mean little things, like being afraid to go bungee jumping or stand up to a bully. Or tell the girl I love that I love her._

_Sam, I probably almost crapped my pants when I got in that fight with Mitch. But the thing is, I looked at that Daxter kid, and I thought about all those times when I had been picked on, and I wished somebody had stepped in. Or those times when it was you who stepped in. At the very least, I was going to stop Mitch from hurting the kid. I figured Mitch would beat me up. But that's happened before, and I recovered. It was the fear that used to hold me back._

_The thing is that the dream showed me is that sometimes it doesn't matter what you do-sometimes things are just going to happen, even if you prepare for them or try to resist them. I'm not going to be stupid; for example, I would never try to stand up on a roller coaster. Ha. But I'm not going to let fear control me anymore._

_So that's why I told you I love you, Sam. I've loved you for a while. And I've been pretty sure you felt the same way. Except both of us are so scared to put that out there. So I love you, and I told you, and maybe you'll return it. And maybe you won't. Maybe you'll mock me and say you could never love a nub like me. And if you do that, it will hurt. I won't lie. But I'l survive. And I'll never regret telling you that I love you._

_Sam, you are the bravest, strongest person I know, and it hurts me badly to think that I had a part in changing that. It wasn't your fault. Things just happen. Things will continue to happen. Things will happen that will hurt us and make us cry and anger us. Sometimes things will happen that will make us laugh or smile. The best thing I can see in any of those circumstances is you being with me._

_The last image I saw in this dream or vision or whatever was you and me. We were old. Like really old, mall-walking old, maybe nursing-home old. And we were on a couch, holding hands, and there were pictures all around the house of you and me through the years, of children and grandchildren, of friends and family. And I just stared at the two of us holding hands; that could be us, holding hands after so many years. And I thought that was such a great thing. And then I died._

_And then I came back, Sam. I'm trying to take my death as a reason to live my life the way it should be. Don't take it as a reason to retreat from being you._

_Love,_

_Freddie_

At the end of the letter, Freddie had written something in pencil.

_P.S. Frothy seems to like me._

Sam read Freddie's letter a second time, and then she put it back in the envelope. She started to put it in her box of items she wanted to keep away from her mother, but then decided to keep the letter with her. She put it in her backpack.

She got ready for school.

**A/N: That may not be the type of "Freddie" chapter people were expecting, but I hope you enjoyed it.**

**Thank you for reviews from: Kressxblack, TheRockAngel, Purple550, Charlie Merrit, Icarlya, popcorn1001, Geekquality, iCarlyfan101, S. Benson, iSam101, and ShooshYeah35.**

**Charlie Merrit: "Author looks at his iTunes, where two different versions of 'Bust a Move' are. Silently thinks to himself that Charlie Merrit can kiss off, not that he would ever say that out loud." And I agree that opposites don't necessarily attract. I think that "just-opposite-enough"s attract, and I think Sam and Freddie are like that. People just seem to concentrate more on their differences than on the ways they are alike. And, no, the story doesn't end on the bridge, but it might end somewhere else familiar.**

**Icarlya: I guess we will just have to have different opinions on how Sam and Freddie would act. Thank you for continuing to read, though.**

**ShooshYeah35: My feeling about Freddie taking Sam back there is that he knows Sam well enough to know that, despite the recent changes in her, she is still Sam, and she could handle it. He would not have done the same if it was, for example, Carly with him, because she would not have had that type of strength to handle it (not dissing Carly-just saying that she and Sam have different strengths and weaknesses). Anyone who dislikes Dawson Leery is familia to me. I think you insult Carly to even remotely compare her to Dawson Leery. I truly believe there was no more horrible character on TV than Dawson Leery. Sure, there were other characters who acted worse, but Dawson was the worst because everybody acted like he was such a great guy, and he was just a horrible, horrible, horrible, horrible person. And an even worse friend.**


	8. Chapter 8: In the Dark

Chapter 8: In the Dark

**Disclaimer: If I owned **_**iCarly**_**, don't you think I would have worked the schedule out better than this?**

_**Note: Look up a little and see that "T" rating? This chapter is the main reason why. I wish I could tell you more without spoiling. **_

Sam was late. She had allowed herself to be. She wasn't quite prepared for any conversation with Freddie. Also, she took the time to read the letter three more times. She was still trying to process everything in it-everything from Freddie's love to the visions he saw. How should she handle them? She could barely handle walking down the hall, and now Freddie had added all this on to her problems. That boy is a nuisance, she thought, and didn't realize a small smile had slipped onto her face.

She did see him after first period, on the other side of the hallway. He looked at her and gave her a noncommittal nod-just a sign of recognition, not showing that he expected anything of her. She nodded back and made a snap decision to skip second period. She hadn't done it the last few days, but it had been more or less routine for her to do so before the accident. Later, she would think of Freddie's letter, and how you make a decision like in those "Choose Your Own Adventure" books and you have to turn to a new page to see if you died or were sent on a new adventure. Simple decisions people don't think about have surprising consequences, she would think, and she wondered if she should put that on a fortune cookie.

The bell rang as she walked down the hall, and soon it was almost completely empty. Sam was a girl who was usually acutely aware of her surroundings (somebody who skipped as much as she did had to be), but her mind was elsewhere, on a certain letter, and she didn't notice that anybody was in the hall with her until she had been pushed into the janitor's closet.

She tried to gather her thoughts. There was only complete darkness around her, as her eyes did not adjust immediately to the change. A huge meaty arm was around her waist, pinning her arms to her side. She struggled to free herself, but, despite a strength some thought abnormal in a girl her size, she could not.

"You know, I thought before I finished with Benson, I might spend a little time with his girlfriend." Sam winced. Mitch. She tried to scream, but he covered her mouth with a foul-smelling hand, and all that came out was a muffled groan.

"Don't bother, sweetie. The janitor is in the downstairs closet, taking a nap. And none of the classrooms would be able to hear you anyway." She realized she could feel his hardness rubbing against her, as he was no making no effort to hide it. "You like that, don't you, you little slut?"

Sam felt a tear run down her cheek, and she cursed herself. How could Freddie love anybody as weak as her?

"Yeah, you like it. Benson probably hasn't been able to treat you like a real man should." She heard the tone in his voice and realized something. He was afraid of Freddie. She could tell when he had said Freddie's name. She had heard the sound of fear from other people in her life plenty enough to know. She had been causing that fear a lot of time. He was afraid of Freddie. And he had gone after Sam Puckett. Because he wasn't scared of her.

_And then I came back, Sam. I'm trying to take my death as a reason to live my life the way it should be. Don't take it as a reason to retreat from being you._

He released the hand over her mouth, and it wandered around her, under his other arm, as he pulled her T-shirt up and let his fingers trace her bare stomach. She let a whimper out, and he bent over, ready to say something mocking in her ear. And she thrust her head back, pleased at the satisfying noise she heard. Before he could move she thrust her leg back and he cried out. She heard the sound of his knees hitting the floor, and she rushed forward to turn the light on. She looked around, happy to see a pool of blood around his now twice-broken nose. He held his crotch in his hands. She came forward and pushed him with her foot, so that he felll on his back.

"I'm gonna kill you, bitch," he said, although she could barely understand him. Blood bubbled in his nostrils. He was making what she was about to do much easier for her. She got down on her knees near his feet, making sure to keep her forearm out, in case he thought to kick out at her. She reached out with snake-like speed and grabbed where his jeans made a V. She squeezed. And Mitch screamed.

"Don't bother, Mitch. Nobody can hear you." He whimpered. She put pressure on his testicle, which felt like a malformed grape under his pants.

"I want you to think real good about what I have in my hand here, Mitch. And I want you to think about what I could do to it. Because I am thinking about that." She applied a harder squeeze for a moment. "What I want is for you to take this opportunity right now to think about never, ever going near Freddie or me ever again."

"Gonna kill you both," he whispered. Sam smiled at him, and he winced at the malice in that smile. Then his eyes popped open as she squeezed again.

"The thing is, Mitch, Freddie pretty much kicked your ass in front of everybody, and I love the kid, but he's no fighter. And you want to remember something." She moved closer so he could see her face well. She gave him another squeeze in case he wanted to lash out at her. "Freddie's the _nice_ one. I. Am. Not. Nice."

She sat back, still applying pressure. Tears were streaming down Mitch's face. She almost felt bad for him. On the other hand, fuck him.

"I think you're going to promise that you will never go near us again. Does that sound good?"

He nodded. "Pro...promise."

"Of course, you are in in extreme pain right now, and people will do things they usually wouldn't when they're under duress. How do you think I should guarantee you will actually keep your promise?"

He looked at her uncomprehendingly.

"Maybe I should just go ahead and finish. You wouldn't miss it anyway." She tightened, and he screamed a soundless gasp. "Or maybe..." She reached back with her other hand quickly and pulled out her phone, as she kept the pressure on. "I should just film this. You know, just in case. What do you say, Mitch?"

He looked at her, and winced again as he felt another squeeze. He nodded.

"So, Mitch, what were you planning to do with me in here?"

"Nothing, I swear." She squeezed.

"Mitch, no lying."

"I was just gonna feel you up a little."

"Miiiitch."

"Really, that's it. I swear, please. I was just gonna do enough so I could rub it in your boyfr...Benson's face." She squeezed again. "I promise," he gasped.

"What about Freddie?"

"Me and some buddies were gonna grab him. I was gonna tell him what I did to you. And then we were going to take him to that bridge and throw him off. Figured that would freak him out, since he died there and shit." Sam suppressed her smile. That was the best he could come up with? He really didn't know anything about the new Freddie Benson.

"Okay, Mitch, that's good. Now I want you tell the nice camera here that you're not gonna bother us. And you're not gonna bother any other kids around here. You think you can repeat that?" He did. "And I want you to know, Mitch, this video isn't going to stay on this phone. If something happens to me or Freddie, or if I hear that you've beaten up any kids around here, well, I think there's going to be something special on the next _iCarly_ episode. Do you understand?" He nodded again. "Okay, Mitch, I'm going to get up now. And you're not going to follow me. Just in case you think of doing that, I'm just going to go ahead and e-mail this video for safekeeping." She did so with her one hand, which took a moment or two. Just in case Mitch got brave she sent a copy to Carly. Carly wouldn't watch a video from Sam, after past experiences, so Sam didn't have to worry. Sam kept an eye on Mitch. From the look of him, he wasn't likely to get up and follow anybody for a while. "Okay, Mitch, we're all done here. I'm going to go wash my hands well, because I think you've had a little accident there. You might want to clean that up."

And she got up and went without looking at him again. She turned off the light and closed the door.

She washed her hands thoroughly a few times. She didn't know if the wetness she felt had been urine or blood, but she decided she had enough of any part of Mitch Quinn being on her.

Freddie was right. You could never tell what was going to happen, but there was no way she was going to let somebody like Mitch think she was somebody he could just rub up on. He had been afraid of Freddie Benson, and not Sam Puckett. Never saw that day coming, she thought.

Freddie Benson. Yeah, maybe Mitch hadn't been the only one afraid of Freddie Benson, although he had a different reason. At least she hoped he had a different reason, she though, laughing to herself, feeling like...well, herself, for the first time since the accident.

And speaking of the boy himself, there he was, standing in front of his locker. She walked to him. Maybe he noticed something different, because he smiled at her. And she felt the smile as she pressed her lips to his, eliciting surprise from Carly, who Sam hadn't even noticed. Nor had she noticed any of the other people in the hall. Just him. Just Freddie. After his first moment of surprise, he returned her kiss. And then she pulled back, looking up into his eyes. His arms were around her, and her hands rested on his side.

"I could never love a nub like you," she said. Carly gasped, but Freddie smiled at Sam.

"And yet you do," he said.

"Yet I do," she agreed.

"Hey! You two, no PDA," Mr. Howard yelled from down the hall. Sam glanced at him, and then turned back to Freddie.

"How do you feel about detention, Freddie?"

"Long as I'm with you," he said, and bent down to kiss her.

**A/N: I hope nobody was too bothered by this chapter. I needed something to complete Sam's realization that Freddie was correct about her, but, to me, it wouldn't have been right if Freddie had led her all the way to that realization; she needed to make the final leap herself. The scene with Mitch itself came about after I had seen too many fanfics in which Sam is physically abused and pretty much just takes it. And I would think, "that's not Sam!" And some of you are probably reading this, and thinking that the scene with Mitch was not Sam either, and within the scope of the sitcom, you are correct, but I felt it needed to be done within the scope of this story. **

**I also apologize to any guys out there who winced through the Mitch scene. But, hey, I had to write it and read it and read it again and edit and revise. There's only so much squeezing a guy can take.**

**Before anybody chastises me, yes, in the normal course of events that last scene would not have happened in front of other people, but Freddie obviously changed some and so has Sam, even though she is getting back to her normal Samitude. **

**There should be one chapter left.**

**Thank you for reviews from: Julefor, TheRockAngel, ccQTccQT, kiyokoseddie, LizzieGirly223, Purple550, Charlie Merrit, iCarlyfan101, ShooshYeah35, geekquality, and Dreamweaver1985.**

**Julefor: Oh, stop, I'm blushing (although, don't really stop-I'm a compliment junkie). I know some people might say that Freddie should not know things about Sam that Carly doesn't, but relationships are like that. I talk to different people in my life about different things, and that's just because of how I connect to those people individually. As I somewhat highlighted in a comment last chapter, I think the reason Freddie and Sam work so well is not because of their differences, but because their similarities.**

**Charlie Merrit: I was just busting your chops a little. Hey, I have a Backstreet Boys song and three Debbie Gibson songs on my iPod, but I tell myself they are counterbalanced by Rancid, Fugazi, Metallica, etc. And I think anybody serenading anybody outside their house is lame; it doesn't matter what their voice sounds like. If you're gonna go that route-tape deck, "In My Eyes" by Peter Gabriel. You don't mess with a classic. I hadn't seen that episode of Six Feet Under; I stopped watching before that. But the concept is not new. Not much in writing is. I can't remember who said it, but they said "there are no new stories." There are only the ways an author makes the story his own. **


	9. Chapter 9: Here We Are Again

Chapter 9: Here We Are Again

**Disclaimer: Once upon a time I didn't own **_**iCarly**_**. I still don't. The end. Now go to bed.**

He picked her up in his mother's car. His truck had been pulled out of the water, but there was very little that could be done to save it. Insurance would give him some money, but the truck hadn't cost much in the first place, so he would probably need to save up to get another vehicle. So had borrowed his mom's car for their date.

"You're understand I'm going on a date, right?"

"Of course, Freddie." She waved at him and turned the page in her Beatrice Small romance novel.

"With Sam."

"I know, dear."

"I was thinking I might ask Carly out on a date tomorrow night."

"Over my dead body, sweetie."

"Just checking."

So he was standing on Sam's porch. He hadn't lied to her that day after he had jumped off the bridge. She did scare him. Maybe someone with that much force, that much life should scare him, he thought. It was worth the fear being with her. He wouldn't want it any other way. He knocked. She opened the door.

"Hey, Benson."

"You look beautiful."

She looked down at herself. "I look the same as I always do."

"I know." She rolled her eyes, but he saw the blush paint her cheeks. She closed the door and walked down the porch with him.

He reached his hand out and grabbed her hand. The old Freddie, the one who didn't turn on the street toward the bridge, never would have been brave enough to do that with a girl on their first date. Especially when that girl was Sam Puckett.

The other Sam Puckett never would have let him. And this one didn't, either. She pulled his hand behind her back and grabbed it with her other hand until his arm was around her, hand resting on her hip.

He opened the car door for her. She rolled her eyes, but allowed him to do so. It was probably something he had been taught by his mother, and she just had no energy to make snarky comments right now about his mother. She obviously wasn't all bad; she raised a good son.

Sam made no comment as they drove. She thought of saying something. This time, she had seen the route he took. But she said nothing. When the car first went on the bridge he put his right hand down on the seat, and she grasped it with her left. After they had gone past the length of the bridge he attempted to release her hand, but she held on for a moment longer.

"You're a nub, Benson," she said.

"I know."

"You know, you have to at least pretend to be hurt. It's not worth the effort, otherwise."

"I'm crying inside."

"Good."

They pulled into the carnival parking lot, and she allowed him to open her door again. He put his arm around her, and she leaned her head against his shoulder.

They had a brief argument at the roller coaster. The attendant remembered Sam and didn't want to let her on, but finally Freddie talked him into it, promising that he would ensure she didn't do anything.

"I can't believe you lied to that guy," she said, as they walked to their seats.

"Sam."

"I'm just saying-" And he shut her up with a kiss. Little does he realize, she thought, that this is just going to encourage me to try to raise a ruckus more. Or maybe he did realize that. She didn't do anything dangerous in the car, simply enjoyed being with her boyfriend.

"Wait, I'm your boyfriend?" he had said, when she first used that word.

"Yeah. Are you saying you don't want to be?"

"No, I just thought that was something we were supposed to make official or something."

"What are we, twelve?"

After the roller coaster they decided to get something to eat. Freddie had two hot dogs, while Sam had three hot dogs, a funnel cake, a pretzel, and a large frozen lemonade.

"So," Freddie said, "I heard that Mitch Quinn switched schools."

"Did he?" Sam asked, licking powdered sugar off her fingers.

"Yeah, apparently the janitor found him in the closet with his nose re-broken. One of my buddies said he could barely walk. He wouldn't say what happened. Although he was quite insistent it wasn't me." He looked at her. "You wouldn't know anything about this, would you, Sam?"

"Me, I'm just a defenseless girl," she said, tearing off half the hot dog in one bite.

"Sam, you know I'm not dumb, right?"

She stopped eating. "Yes, I know you're not dumb, Freddie. Do you know that I'm tougher than you?"

"Yeah, I know."

"Good, let's just agree we both know that, and that I can take care of myself. Maybe we can talk about things later if you really want to, but for now I would just like to enjoy a date with my boyfriend. Besides, I don't want my lemonade to melt. Okay?"

"Okay," he said, and smiled at her.

After she finished her lemonade...and after she got over two or three brain freezes, she asked him, "it really doesn't bother you that I'm tough?"

"It's one of the things I admire about you, Sam. I love you because you're Sam. There's just nothing better than that."

"That's sappy."

"I know."

"Thank you." They got up. Freddie picked up their trash and threw it in a wastebasket.

"Hey, there's a ride I want to go on." He pointed to Tom's Twister.

"That's a little lame, Freddie."

"Yeah, we'll see. Come on."

There was nobody waiting in line for it. Freddie nodded at the operator, who Sam recognized as a school mate, although she couldn't think of his name.

"It's cool," the guy said to Freddie, and Freddie and Sam went into the ride. They stood side by side against the wall. It was a circular area that would spin, and when it was fast enough the floor would drop and they would remain plastered to the wall.

"What did he mean that it's cool?" Sam asked.

"You'll see."

The room started spinning.

'Sam."

She turned to Freddie and saw that he was slowly leaning forward. He gestured for her to follow his lead. She stared at him, and then leaned. As the room spun faster and faster, they leaned in until they were almost forty-five degrees. Freddie slowly reached his hand out to her and she grabbed it.

"You're crazy, Freddie," she said, after they got out.

"Yes, my middle name is Danger."

"Is it?"

"It is now. It used to be Bartholomew, but I changed it." She laughed.

"Come on," she said, and guided him to another ride.

"You thought my ride was lame, Sam? How is this not lame?" They stood outside the Tunnel of Love.

"Well, I figure we can take care of all the cliches and you can ask to be my boyfriend while we're in there."

"What makes you think I would want to do that?"

"Because you can't stop looking at me," she said.

"No, I can't," he agreed and kissed her.

"Save it for the ride, kids," the operator said.

They got on. Sam nestled up to Freddie. It felt comfortable. Soon they plunged into darkness, except for occasional neon lights that were supposed to be romantic, but settled for tacky.

"Sam, will you be my girlfriend?"

"Can I think about it? I'm fielding other offers right now."

"Oh. I can wait, I guess." He paused for a moment. "Would it be tactless if I asked if I could date your sister? Ow."

"You deserved it." She felt his warm breath against her ear as he kissed along her cheek until he found her mouth. She returned his kiss and decided to make a move of her own.

"Woah, hands in new places, Sam, what are you doing?" She smiled, and he felt it against his mouth.

"What's the matter, Benson? Are you scared?"

"Yes, I am." She felt his smile match hers. "But I'm learning to face my fears."

**A/N: If you figure out what TV series produced one of the lines of dialogue in here, I'll give you an imaginary cookie. Okay, it's just the cookie dough; you have to bake it yourself.**

**This one was a tough one to write, not only because of the subject matter, but because I am also in the middle of writing another story at the same time. That story has a completely different tone than this one, so I had a few incidents in which the writing style would be wrong for the story I was writing. Maybe next time I have two ideas I want to work on, I'll wait until I finish one. Or maybe not. The subject matter was difficult because of the changes on the characters. I realize (and have seen during this story) that some people are uncomfortable with having well-known and loved characters change. Personally, I find observing the process of people going through those changes fascinating, and I hope that I was able to produce that same effect in some people. The Sam and Freddie at the end of this story are not the same Sam and Freddie who were kicked out of the carnival, but they're still Sam and Freddie enough to be recognizable (I think) and for them to still love each other.**

**Thanks for reviews from: Julefor, LizzieGirly223, Charlie Merrit, kiyokoseddie, iCarlyfan101, S. Benson, Geekquality, Xxxpandagirl101xX, and jhulkmn08.**

**Julefor: I don't feel sorry for Mitch, either, except maybe for some testicular sympathy inherent in all men. **

**LizzyGirly223: I wouldn't say I was laughing (much), but it really made me feel good after some of the fanfics I read. Obviously, there would be people who could best Sam, but people would have Jonah smacking her around. Jonah!**

**Charlie Merrit: I actually had a few internal debates about the whole Mitch thing (sometimes I agreed with what I thought, and sometimes I thought I might be drunk). Yes, most of the time what Mitch did would have warranted something that would make him no longer in the school. But I knew after I begin writing that chapter that I would want him back, so I did let him off a little easy (although, to be fair, I have seen people get beaten worse at school and the instigator got little punishment, so what I did was not necessarily unrealistic). And I treaded lightly (and probably clumsily) over the whole situation with Sam and him in the closet. I wanted to make sure we knew that he was planning to go only so far with what he did with Sam, because I wanted Sam's triumph to be the most important thing, not "Sam almost got raped". Again, yes, maybe clumsy writing, but I felt I had to to make one sacrifice so I could save something even more important (this comment brought to you by "The Good Son", starring Macauley Culkin and Elijah Wood (I think)).**

**jhulkmn08: What Freddie saw in his vision/dream was possibilities. He could have had a second kiss with Sam on the fire escape. He has the possibility of marrying Sam and having children. He has the possibility of dying or never seeing his high school friends again. It was mostly to highlight his understanding that you can't be so scared of life that you stop living. He wasn't deceiving himself. He realized that, no matter the result, he needed to start doing the things he had always wanted to, but was too afraid-number one being telling Sam he loved her. As for why Mitch didn't try to kick Sam off, I will refer you to a scene from The Shawshank Redemptiion, in which Andy explains that any sudden serious brain injury causes the victim to bite down hard. You can guess on what. That's kind of what I was thinking with Mitch. Sure, he could have kicked her off somehow, but she had a precious little piece of cargo in her hand, and what's to say she wouldn't have taken that with her? When the boys are in trouble, a man isn't in too much of a hurry to raise a ruckus.**


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